Waymark seemed uneasy. He rose and leaned against the mantelpiece.
"I will do whatever you bid me," Ida said. "I can get an hour or so each night, and I have all Sunday."
Waymark felt only too well the effect of the tone he was adopting. The situation was by this time clear enough to him, and his own difficulties no less clear. He avoided looking at Ida as much as he could. A change had again come over her manner; the girlishness was modified, the old sadder tone was audible at moments.
"If it's fine on Sunday," he said, "will you go with me to Richmond, and let us have dinner at the old place?"
"No," was Ida's reply, with a smile, "I can't afford it."
"But I invite you. Of course I didn't mean that it should be any expense."
She still shook her head.
"No, I must take my own share, wherever we go."
"Then I shall certainly refuse your cup of tea next time I come," said Waymark jestingly.
"That's quite different," said Ida. "But if you like, we can go in the afternoon, and walk about Roehampton; that I can afford."